The Prisoner of the Imperial Prison

Within the Imperial Prison, the most infamous dungeon in the Wu Yin Dynasty, an extraordinary prisoner arrived.

When the secret guards took custody, this prisoner had already been wrapped in layers upon layers of thick black cloth.

Upon entering the dungeon, they were further confined within an iron effigy, a torture device resembling a coffin, which covered their entire body.

From the outside, they looked utterly like a crude doll, barely discernible as human, haphazardly crafted by a childish hand.

Even more peculiar, specific instructions from above dictated that this individual be confined to the most heavily guarded cell, yet no one was permitted to approach them, not even for interrogation or torture.

Such treatment naturally sparked countless conjectures among the numerous jailers.

As the patrol passed the cell holding the prisoner, a young man, a recent recruit still brimming with untamed exuberance, couldn’t help but whisper within the ranks:

“Could this fellow be some peerless master, capable of finding a weakness and escaping the moment anyone gets close?”

The jailers, too, were merely men who performed their duties for a wage; their work’s peculiar nature notwithstanding, they lived ordinary lives with their own leisure.

This young man, who dearly loved listening to storytellers in his free time, immediately thought of the remarkably fresh tales like ‘Swordsman Duo O, Sword Without O’, which had suddenly become popular in the Wu Yin Dynasty eight years prior.

Before then, the Wu Yin Dynasty had never known such martial artist stories, tales of warriors unrestrained by the imperial court.

Only the glorious achievements and romantic escapades of princes, marquises, generals, and chancellors circulated throughout the land.

But starting eight years ago, the names whispered in teahouses throughout the streets and alleys shifted from the princes, marquises, generals, and chancellors—whose identities had grown blurred over centuries of retelling—to vibrant, almost tangible figures like Li O’Huan, Lu O’Feng, Chu O’Xiang, and others.

While these stories never quite achieved high literary acclaim, they nonetheless led people to instinctively use the theories within them to explain phenomena that defied easy comprehension.

Hearing this, his companion admonished him in an even lower voice:

“Lessen your words. This is a grave criminal, imprisoned by His Majesty’s personal decree, and soon His Majesty himself will dismiss all attendants to personally carry out the execution.”

“What if the prisoner truly possesses the abilities of those masters in the storybooks? If he’s petty-minded and maliciously implicates you, even if you don’t die, you’ll likely lose a layer of skin.”

Upon hearing this, the young man’s face instantly blanched, perhaps recalling the brutal scenes he had witnessed recently.

He sheepishly clamped his mouth shut, cupped his hands in apology towards the direction of the cell, and followed the squad as they departed.

The person confined within the iron effigy, unable to move, was, of course, Mo Tingbei.

Even with his cultivation utterly lost, his five senses remained astonishingly sharp.

Not a single word uttered by the jailers, who believed themselves unheard, escaped his ears.

Now, upon overhearing the jailers’ conversation, even a Dao Heart as firm as iron couldn’t help but waver slightly.

‘This wicked disciple truly intends to deceive her master and destroy her lineage!’

Recalling the recent scene of his cultivation being seized, Mo Tingbei found it utterly absurd.

A dignified Foundation Establishment (TL Note: A cultivation stage where a cultivator builds their spiritual foundation) cultivator, to have his cultivation forcibly taken by a mere mortal woman!

Even after eight years of being corroded by the Poison of the Mortal World (TL Note: A spiritual affliction that weakens a cultivator’s spiritual purity and power, often associated with worldly desires and emotions), he was still a cultivator from ancient times, one whose single word could once determine the fate of a nation.

If this experience were to spread, he feared he would become the laughingstock of the entire cultivation world.

This incident, however, also prompted him to reflect.

From the moment he embarked on the path of cultivation, he had always placed immense reliance on his so-called ‘Spiritual Sense’.

After all, cultivators often possessed methods to distort the five senses, and only the developed sixth sense—Spiritual Sense—could pierce through such deceptions.

Yet, not long ago, his ‘good’ disciple had exploited cultivators’ reliance on Spiritual Sense.

First, she used poison to blind his Spiritual Sense, ensuring he never developed any suspicion.

Then, she seized the opportune moment—when he was preoccupied suppressing the Poison of the Mortal World and unable to readily use his spiritual power—to launch a sudden assault, drawing out his cultivation with a sinister array formation long forbidden in the cultivation world.

Her methods weren’t particularly brilliant, but they were precisely effective.

‘Just effective enough to deal with a fool like him, who loved to play the mentor and was far too trusting!’

Fortunately, however, he still had a contingency.

Ordinary cultivators, after having their cultivation seized, typically required a prolonged period of recovery before they could even hope to cultivate again.

After all, seizing cultivation was different from merely seizing spiritual power.

A cultivator’s cultivation was, in essence, their understanding of the laws of heaven and earth, shaped by their individual innate talent.

To seize cultivation was not merely to strip away spiritual power, but to rob a cultivator of a portion of their inherent talent.

For any cultivator, this was nothing short of a ‘Wound to the Grand Dao’.

Thus, even if one whose cultivation had been seized could once again embark on the path of cultivation, their achievements would never be comparable to their former glory.

But Mo Tingbei was different.

Early in his cultivation journey, when his understanding of cultivation common sense was still rudimentary, he had once had his cultivation drained to save someone.

It was precisely because of that accident, coupled with various experiences in his later cultivation, that he discovered a peculiar truth: each time he suffered a fundamental ‘Wound to the Grand Dao,’ if he recovered, his innate talent would actually ascend another level!

However, such opportunities to enhance one’s innate talent were exceedingly rare.

The present era was unlike ancient times; sects now supported disciples only on an annual basis.

Should one fail the year-end assessment, they would receive not a single resource, and falling behind even a step meant entering a vicious cycle.

Bearing a Wound to the Grand Dao would only set him back dozens of steps compared to others, yielding an innate talent whose future potential to convert into cultivation was uncertain.

In today’s cultivation world, such a gamble was simply not worth the cost.

Moreover, a Wound to the Grand Dao was no common affliction.

Every time Mo Tingbei suffered such a wound, he faced a perilous situation where survival was almost impossible.

In a sense, one could say the probability was almost identical to an ordinary person falling off a cliff, miraculously surviving, and stumbling upon an unparalleled cultivation technique.

That such a subtle reflection existed between calamity and fortune—was this not, in itself, a manifestation of the ‘Dao’?

Mo Tingbei recalled the philosophical insights of ancient sages he had read in his previous life.

The suffocating sensation of being imprisoned within this small iron effigy in his heart somewhat eased, replaced by a surge of heroic spirit.

He was merely a mortal again, not dead.

If Ye Jinghuang believed that with his cultivation stripped away, he would passively endure her humiliation, then she was bound for a profound disappointment.

Within his dantian, a wisp of spiritual power, as fine as a silken thread, had been nurtured over the past two days.

He carefully guided it to circulate through his meridians in a complete cycle.

Ye Jinghuang, after all, had never truly delved into the cultivation world.

The long-forbidden, lost forbidden art she used had not unleashed its full might, leaving him with a trace of spiritual power that was almost imperceptible.

Moreover, she had coincidentally thrown him into the part of the capital with the least amount of Poison of the Mortal World.

All of this was nothing short of divine assistance.

As Mo Tingbei mused, he continued to circulate his spiritual energy.

Even though he was wrapped like a cloth zongzi and unable to move or see, he found it anything but tedious.

Suddenly, a strange sound echoed above his head, seemingly the cracking of bricks or stone.

Distracted for a moment, he nearly misdirected his spiritual power through the wrong meridian during its circulation.

Mo Tingbei felt a flicker of doubt, but when he listened more closely, the sound had vanished.

Indeed, the Imperial Prison was constructed from the hardest mortal rock, reinforced with special rice glue, making it utterly impossible for mortals to damage.

Mo Tingbei gave a self-deprecating smile.

‘It seems my Dao Heart isn’t as resolute as I thought, to actually fantasize about someone coming to rescue me, and even nearly misdirect my meridians because of it.’

Just as he once again immersed himself in the circulation of his cultivation technique, a warm, cool presence drew near.

Even through the thick layers of wrapping, a woman’s scent wafted into his nostrils, and a voice he knew all too well whispered by his ear, instantly stirring his memories.

Eight years ago, it was the owner of this very voice who had made him resolve to accept that senior sister’s commission, willing to endure the corrosion of the Poison of the Mortal World just to evade her tracking spell.

Words from their parting and their reunion echoed in his ears:

“Stay by my side forever, Master~”

“Master, long time no see. This time, you’re not allowed to escape again, okay~”